eagles were born to soar
by izukillme
Summary: Hyūga never joins the basketball team, Izuki steps up to be captain, and everything is different.
1. the eagle who learned to fly

"I said _no_, and that's final!" Hyūga's face is red with anger.

Kiyoshi looks so _crushed_, and Izuki wants to comfort him, he really does. But he should have known.

There's no use in trying to change Hyūga's mind. Izuki knows, because he has done so. Through talks and shouting matches and things being thrown and silences that Hyūga never broke first. Because he's tried and tried and it just led to their friendship wilting, then fading away like the ghost of a flower that smelled like the slowly-forgotten summers of childhood.

Kiyoshi should have known, but then again Kiyoshi doesn't know Hyūga like he does.

No one will ever know Hyūga Junpei like Izuki Shun does.

* * *

A few weeks later, Kiyoshi gives up on Hyūga.

Izuki nods contritely when he hears this.

"I'm sorry." he says, and is a little surprised at himself at how empty he sounds.

He isn't actually sorry at all that Hyūga refused. He doesn't know why – he just… isn't.

"That's all right," Kiyoshi says with a little bit of that spark back in his eyes. "We have enough people for a team and that's really what matters."

Izuki finds himself smiling.

"I guess it is." He doesn't even try to make a pun, caught up in his thoughts.

That's when he accepts that he's not sorry that Hyūga isn't joining. He's maybe even… a little relieved.

* * *

The caramel-haired girl Hyūga used to train with back in the old days goes to their school. Aida Riko, Izuki remembers. She must know quite a lot about basketball – or any sport, really. And she has that useful Scan ability Hyūga had mentioned a couple of times.

_Maybe she can coach us. We do need a coach, after all._

He voices this thought to Koganei first, who hums and haws, mostly about Riko's gender. Izuki scolds him soundly for having apprehension about a female coach – that respect for women comes when you're raised by a single mother and have two sisters – and somehow gets him to agree. Tsuchida and Mitobe are all for the idea, nodding and assenting quickly. And Kiyoshi is delighted, clapping him on the back and praising him to the high heavens.

"Izuki, you're really intelligent," he exclaims. "You're going to be the best point guard."

Izuki grins.

"I suppose I made a good point." he jokes tentatively, not wanting to put them off with his incessant puns. Despite what most people think, he makes them wilfully and _can_ stop if he wants to. His friends are just – _were_ just, seeing as they aren't on speaking terms anymore – fun to annoy.

And instead of the usual bristly response to shut up, they all laugh loudly.

"That was good!" Koganei howls. Tsuchida and Kiyoshi crush him from both sides. Mitobe smiles and gives him a thumbs-up.

Izuki _never _laughs at his own jokes.

But he can't help but laugh with them.

* * *

"I will only coach a team that wants to be the best in Japan!" Aida Riko declares loftily when Izuki goes to ask her if she'll be their coach.

And _hell_, she's right. No one should waste their time on a team that is just playing for the heck of it.

Kiyoshi wants it. You can see it in the fire in his eyes, burning like infernos every time 'basketball' is mentioned. You can see it in the way he plays, strong and solid, a calm storm determined to cover the clear sky of the basketball court.

Izuki knows the acrid taste of defeat on his tongue, the feeling of not being good enough, the smell of victory being snatched away from right under your nose. He knows the slipperiness of sweat mixed with tears and the dread and the fear. He knows the feeling of asking himself, _am I good enough_, and coming up with the terrifying answer of _Maybe not. _And he knows the _want_ to be the best. He is a hungry eagle, starved of victory, for whom small wins will not suffice.

No, Izuki Shun is going to be one of the best in Japan.

But for that, he needs a team who wants the same. And he doesn't know if they do.

So he asks them one day after a rag-tag practice.

"Do you guys want to be the best in Japan?"

Mitobe's eyes shine immediately. Izuki doesn't need a translation to know his new friend's passion for basketball, to know that if Mitobe's going to shoot, he will aim for the top and nowhere lower.

Tsuchida nods.

"Of course I do." He says firmly. "What's the point of half-assing anything?"

Kiyoshi, he doesn't even need to ask. Izuki and he just nod at each other wordlessly.

But Koganei looks doubtfully up at him.

"Do you even think that we can?" he asks quietly, as if it is dangerous to even broach the topic of being the country's best.

Izuki claps him on the back and tells him, "If you want it enough."

Koganei doesn't want it yet, because it still seems like an impossible dream to him.

But with every practice, with every shot he makes and every three-pointer he manages successfully, it starts becoming less of an impossible dream but more of a distant one.

Distance can be travelled, though, and Izuki knows how easily it is crossed when one _wants_ like one never has.

* * *

"I know why you won't accept us," Izuki tells Riko one day after class.

She looks up suspiciously at him. "Why?"

"It's because of Hyūga. He quit, that's why you hate quitters."

Riko's eyes widen. "How did you-"

Izuki smiles bitterly.

"I'm his best friend, and teammate. Or was," he corrects himself. "I went through every one of those matches, same as him. I tried my level best and more, same as him. One of us quit, one of us didn't."

She shakes her head. "I'm not _doing_ it."

Izuki shrugs. "I'm just saying. I've loved basket since I was eight and I'm not going to stop now. If Hyūga gives up that's his loss. But I'm not going to give up what I love more than anything. And I won't stop for anything less than the best. Just… consider us. We'll ask you again next week."

Riko stares after him for a bit – he can feel her eyes on his back.

But he's done exactly what Kiyoshi – that cunning fox – asked him to.

He's got her interested.

* * *

They march up to Riko a week after she questioned their desire to win and beg her again, this time on bended knee.

She smiles and tells them, "I want you to go on the rooftop and shout it out at assembly tomorrow."

The about-to-be-formed Seirin Basketball Club doesn't even think twice before nodding as fast as their heads will go.

* * *

"Izuki Shun! Class 1-C! I swear that I along with my teammates _will_ net the national basketball trophies and become the best in Japan!"

He's proud of the pun, even if it wasn't very clear. Obscure puns are the best. And it feels amazing to shout it all out.

Riko smiles proudly at them all and brings them in for a huddle once they finish.

"First order of business," she starts with a grin, "run unless you want detention."

Then the vice-principal bursts onto the rooftop and everyone stands frozen, including Riko herself, who seems to not be taking her own advice.

"It was my idea," she defends her boys, quivering on spot. "So just give me detention."

"Me too," Izuki speaks up before he can think. "I forced them to, I'm the captain. We sort of kidnapped them up here." He gestures to the pile of rope conveniently lying in the corner of the building.

He doesn't hesitate to take the fall for Kiyoshi – it feels natural. It's the least he can do, after everything Kiyoshi has done for him.

Kiyoshi gives him a grateful smile as they head downstairs to class.

"You didn't have to." he tells Izuki, who laughs.

"You're my friend."

Kiyoshi's eyes positively light up.

"We'll talk at lunch more, Shun," he promises brightly and skips off to his seat.

_First names already? _Izuki can't help but smile.

"See you… Teppei," he replies and settles down in his own.

It'd be a bit difficult for him especially, but it wouldn't do to _Shun _first names after all.

Oh, that was a good one!

* * *

The detention is overseen by Izuki's ancient literature teacher, Takeda-sensei, who is quiet, docile and never scolds anyone for talking. Plus he has a soft spot for Izuki, who exploits this quite happily.

Riko and him manage to draft two plays and discuss six strategies – mostly ones Izuki had come up with previously but never been listened to about, or ones Riko had seen in NBA games – by the time the hour's up. She laughs at most of his puns and doesn't even tell him once to shut up, just whacks him with her clipboard at the particularly bad ones.

They look up at Takeda-sensei, and that's when they realise. They need a club advisor who will let them do what they need to without trying to do any advising (which defeats the purpose, but they aren't allowed to just _not_ have an advisor).

Riko points at Takeda-sensei, who looks up mildly and blinks.

"Yes, children? Is there anything you would like?" he asks, voice quivering.

They exchange glances and grin like crazy.

"Takeda-sensei…" Izuki starts, using his teacher's-pet voice, "Aida-san and I are actually starting a basketball club. Of course it wouldn't interfere with our studies," here he widens his eyes and shakes his head, "but we needed an advisor and was wondering if you would help?"

Takeda-sensei smiles. "Surely, Izuki-kun. Are there any forms that need signing?"

"Not that I know of?" Izuki glances at Riko, who shakes her head. "No, there aren't. We thought of having practice in the morning from five to eight and evening from four to eight-thirty, if that's all right?"

Takeda looks a little doubtful.

"I'm old," he states. "It would be difficult for me to stay here so long, but I can try."

"Thank you, sensei!" Izuki and Riko chorus.

When they along with Kiyoshi – who's very proud of their success and shows it through a giant hug – report this news to the principals, the vice-principal doesn't look too pleased, but the principal practically forces him to grant approval for them to use the spare gym. Hoops will be ordered, says the principal.

Izuki, Kiyoshi and Riko exchange gleeful smiles.

Finally, their basketball dream is getting closer.

Finally, it's all coming together.

* * *

Riko's training menus are downright amazing. The girl's a genius.

The only problem is the team itself. Kiyoshi is too soft on them; if they're ever going to win, they need a captain who'll go all out on them.

Someone has to step up, Riko tells them after practice one day. Kiyoshi doesn't mind being criticised as a captain – he seems to realise it's not his forte and is very gracious about it.

"I vote Mitobe," Izuki puts in. "He's calm and collected, and mature, too. The speaking thing is fixed by Koganei's translations and we can understand him most of the time anyways."

Mitobe shakes his head, paling.

"He says he doesn't think he can be a captain!" Koganei chirps. "And I don't think I can either," he adds honestly.

"Count me out," Tsuchida says quickly. "I'm not captain material."

Izuki sighs. "Well, we can't go and make Coach our captain or else we'd have done that by now."

Riko hums. "Actually, Izuki-kun, what about you?"

He blinks.

"What do you mean me?"

Kiyoshi smiles. "It's a good idea! You're calm and collected too, Shun, and you're serious when you need to be."

"Kiyoshi's right. Izuki, you're our best choice." Tsuchida assents. Koganei and Mitobe nod in unison.

_What – I can't be a captain! I'm just… just me!_

"But I've only ever been a vice-captain before. I'm not good at decision-making-" he starts defensively.

"My _ass_ you aren't," Kiyoshi cuts in hotly, for once wearing a fierce face rather than his usually calm demeanour. "Who was the one to change his pass at the last second so your team would win in that two-on-two today? Who was the one to so quickly lie that he was the captain and that he'd be in detention rather than me? Who is our control tower and our point guard?"

Izuki flushes harder at the praise. "Teppei, I-"

"I agree, it's a good choice." Riko spoke up in her no-nonsense tone. "Izuki-kun, you are Seirin High Basketball Team's new captain, starting now!"

Izuki swallows.

"Why do you all think I can do this?"

Then Kiyoshi turns to him with steel in his eyes (that must be where he got nicknamed Iron Heart, he seriously never backs down!) and asks him very clearly –

"Why don't you?"

_Why **don't** I think I can be captain?_

"Because nobody thought I could be until now."

It slips out unbidden, one of the many insecurities he hides behind a façade of puns and his 'cool' look. He covers his mouth instantly, wishing he had never said anything, a furious pink tinting his face.

He is surprised by a sudden hug from the brown-haired boy besides him.

"We believe in you, Itzuki," Koganei tells him very seriously. "So you better believe in yourself!"

And somehow, Izuki finds himself actually feeling a little burst of confidence.

Maybe… with these guys with him… with this team who believed in him so much…

Maybe he _can _be a captain.

Izuki smirks at his team and then he assumes a serious expression.

"Fine, I'll do it. But if I'm going to be a captain," he snaps with a stern face, "I'm going to be the best damn one you've got. So first order! All of you get your asses home, you shouldn't be here this late, and we will meet back here at five o'clock sharp tomorrow morning!"

"Yes, Captain!" they all chorus loudly, and Kiyoshi's voice resonates the strongest. His grin stretches from ear to ear.

It makes Izuki happy, too, in a strange way that sets butterflies aflutter in his stomach.

* * *

They continue on, and Hyūga doesn't show up – not to the club, and not in Izuki's mind either.

Izuki's noticed a few changes in himself. His reaction time is much quicker, for one, and he's able to match with Kiyoshi almost. His Eagle Eye has gotten so much stronger as well, playing against a person of Kiyoshi's calibre – he's been practicing in gym class as well, watching people intently with his Eye and predicting the way they're about to move. He can read most of them nearly fifteen to twenty motions ahead now.

And he hasn't thought about Hyūga in nearly… a month? Two? They don't even talk in class anymore. Or any more, period.

Izuki doesn't miss the constant berating or being told to die. He doesn't miss the casual brushing-off of his efforts and his goals.

That's what surprises him most, really. That he doesn't miss Hyūga.

He tells Kiyoshi so one day, careful and controlled like he always is and yet much more open than he's ever been. They've taken to eating together on the rooftop, and Izuki finds it so easy to trust Kiyoshi that he tells him everything.

"Our team was horrid. I tried and Hyūga tried, but two players weren't enough to carry the whole team." he starts. "That's why he quit; we'd lost every match that year and he just blamed himself."

Kiyoshi hums. "Why didn't you?"

Izuki shrugs. "I blamed myself, but I didn't think quitting would help. I just decided I'd get a new team in high school and… be better this time, fix everything I'd gone wrong with previously. But Hyūga, he just – he wouldn't come back to it. We fought, we shouted at each other – you know he's my friend from when we were little kids. And the things he told me… they hurt."

He stares at his shoes, dangling off the rooftop, suddenly cold despite the day's fiery heat.

"What did he say?" asks Kiyoshi quietly.

Izuki exhales. "He blamed me for everything, and told me my puns were annoying. He said I was a slacker, that I was always so busy with my jokes that I didn't take basketball seriously. He said if I'd tried harder, been faster, stronger, _better_… we would've won." he explains clinically. It really doesn't hurt anymore, but it did then. He'd hidden the pain behind a pun like always and soldiered on.

"Then he said he wished I would just shut up and stop pestering him to get back to basketball because I was the reason he quit. All our old friends sided with him. Well, they were his friends, actually, no one wanted to be the friend of the nerdy kid who made dumb puns."

"They're not dumb!" Kiyoshi starts indignantly.

Izuki laughs. "Some are."

Kiyoshi shakes his head. "Go on," he concedes.

"Hyūga then told me he wished I'd die, after all the falling out and everything – though he's said that a lot of times so it's okay, really," he starts to frantically calm Kiyoshi when he sees tears forming in the bigger boy's eyes.

Kiyoshi sniffles. "That's not fair at all," he exclaims through his tears. "No friend should ever say that! Izuki, you shouldn't die. You're amazing and Hyūga is stupid for not realising that."

"You really think so?" Izuki gazes up at the blazing afternoon sun.

Kiyoshi squeezes his hand. "I do. You're the best."

"Thanks, man."

"I just have one question."

"Hm?"

"Why'd you come to Seirin if you knew there was no basketball?"

Izuki smiles. "After everything… I still loved Hyūga. I knew he needed someone, so I tagged along. He and I were tentative friends; I'd just sort of make sure he was doing okay. That kind of broke when I started hanging around you guys more."

Kiyoshi looks stricken. "I'm so sorry – you should be with him more-"

That's when the truth comes out of Izuki's mouth.

"Without you, I would just be sad and drifting! Hyūga didn't care for me, not really, and you made me see that! I'm glad I'm here with you now, because you do care and it feels amazing. And – and I don't regret that Hyūga didn't join, and I don't regret that we aren't friends anymore. I have something way better with you guys anyway," he finishes fiercely, looking into earnest brown eyes.

Kiyoshi hugs Izuki tightly.

"I'm glad I could make you happy, Shun,"

The coldness vanishes to be replaced by a warmth brighter and stronger than any sunshine.

And Izuki's heart starts to come alive a little more.

* * *

The Inter-High is upon them all of a sudden.

As promised, they play and give it their all. Seirin is a powerhouse, slamming through each round with extreme determination. They've trained constantly for weeks on end, and it's starting to pay off.

Then Kirisaki Daīchi happens and Kiyoshi's injured. Izuki saw everything with his eyes, but who was going to believe the word of a no-name school against a big one like Kirisaki?

They have to drop out. There's no choice. They're short a player, and _who_ could go up against a King of Tokyo with just four on court?

Izuki sees a flash of bleach blonde leaving the stands and then, more than anything, he wants to curse Hyūga for leaving him to do the job he was never fit for.

But he finds himself pulling it together, getting the team gathered round Kiyoshi, handling the situation in a scarily calm manner.

Because they're relying on him. He sees it in the way Koganei looks to him with fear in his eyes, with the way Mitobe steps back to let him lead, with the way Tsuchida stays close to him.

Because they're relying on him, so he has to stay strong for them.

Because he's _their captain,_ so he has to be strong for them.

* * *

It's worse than they'd thought.

Izuki sees the lie in Kiyoshi's eyes as he laughs that he's fine. It makes him want to break something.

He says instead, when everyone's gone, "Are you going to lie to me, too?"

It's guilting, and it's wrong, but it works. Sadness sparks in Kiyoshi's eyes.

"Shun, I – I just – I don't want them to worry."

"You'll make them worry more when you don't play three months after the injury."

Kiyoshi exhales. "You're telling them."

Izuki nods. "I'm telling them. How long?"

"If I go for rehab? Six months to a year. I'll be able to play the Winter

Cup next year, but no more basketball after that for me, ever."

"And the other option?" Because there had to be another way. Because Kiyoshi could _not_ be deprived of his lifeblood, because Izuki _wouldn't _let that happen.

Kiyoshi sighs. "Two years in America for treatment. I won't be able to play with you guys."

Izuki takes a deep, juddering breath. Tears threaten to spill from his eyes.

He pushes them back and asks, "No other way?"

"No other way," Kiyoshi confirms.

Then light footsteps enter, and Izuki realises Riko's been listening all this time.

"Teppei-kun," she starts, "we aren't going to be selfish about this."

Izuki knows what she's saying, and he agrees.

"You have to go to America," Riko continues. "Basketball is your _life_. It's better that you continue to play it for life than ruin your legs now just to play with us."

Then Kiyoshi's fists clench in the covers and he roars, "_BASKET DOESN'T MATTER IF I DON'T HAVE YOU GUYS WITH ME!"_

Izuki is taken aback by the intensity of this raging wave of emotion that flows out of Kiyoshi.

_Basket doesn't matter… if he doesn't have us?_

"You're an idiot," he tells Kiyoshi. "Riko is right."

The girl in question has slipped out, murmuring, "I'll leave you two to it, then,"

"But I know you're going to do what you want," Izuki continues, looking deep into Kiyoshi's eyes. "So… I'll see you in the Winter Cup. And that-" here he grins, "we're going to win like never before."

Kiyoshi nods, smiles.

"Thank you, Shun." It's more than just thanking him for that promise.

It's thanking him for understanding.

"Any time, Teppei," Izuki smiles.

And means it.

* * *

**Izuki is really OP in this fic, about Uncrowned King-level because you do not work that hard and still languish at a low level. Fuck Himuro, honestly (though I love him and don't mean this really), Izuki is the Original Hard Worker and I'm giving him his due credit.**

**I see Izuki as this person who often acts brave, putting up a façade for the world to see. Izuki is a lot deeper than just comic relief, as we see vs. Hayama, and it's just a shame that he's never explored by fan fiction. I feel that he's always holding himself together and is extremely resilient to everything – I mean, getting told to die by your best friend and never being considered as the same in return despite the fact that you gave up your most loved sport for that friend isn't exactly easy. But Izuki always stays by Hyūga's side when really, he doesn't have to at all.**

**So, yeah. This is my take on what things would've been like if Hyūga'd quit, period, and Izuki had to step up. Next chapter: Kuroko, Kagami, all the games, and regrets. It's probably going to be way longer than this one, but I felt it was appropriate to leave off here.**

**Reviews make a girl happy!**


	2. the eagle who soared in the sky

Summer comes and goes. The Winter Cup qualifiers come and go. Seirin doesn't participate; how can they with just four players?

But they don't waste their time. They train, and train, and train, and then they train some more. And then some more until they're running themselves into the ground and Riko has to threaten them to stop with a fucking knife.

Izuki works on his speed. He's getting faster, now, zipping across the court like he's on wheels.

It feels like flying.

Koganei's threes are getting excellent. He's been attempting to emulate Ray Allen, but failing each time. Izuki remembers another person, another summer of trying to perfect Ray Allen's shooting form.

Another time that that person gave up.

But this time is different. This time is different because Koganei won't stop giving it his bloody all. Because what used to be pictures of cats and selfies on his phone has turned into video after video of basketball games, file after file of explaining how exactly Allen's form works.

Because Koganei doesn't back down, and that gives Izuki hope.

Then one fine day he's shooting, and his hand doesn't even tremble during the release. And the ball lands in the basket, barely grazing the rim, and Koganei's staring at his hands in shock.

"I did it," he whispers as if it's so surprising.

"I'm proud of you. That took a lot of balls," Izuki says, clapping him on the back and grinning.

The rest of the team stops momentarily to let out half-groans and half-snickers – they can never decide which when it comes to their crazy captain and his crazy puns.

But Riko, like always, settles for a nice solid whack with her clipboard and yells at the rest to get a move on – with a proud smile on her face, nevertheless.

* * *

Izuki bumps into Hyūga a couple of times around the neighbourhood, when he's practising with his Eagle Eye or doing exercises to improve his reaction time.

Hyūga – still bleach-blonde, hasn't anyone told him he looks awful? – always looks like he wants to say something. He never does.

Izuki is glad for it.

He doesn't have the energy to fix this relationship anymore, and honestly even if he did, he doesn't think he would want to.

He's done trying with Hyūga Junpei.

* * *

He visits Kiyoshi often during his rehab. Kiyoshi always reassures him that it's going fine, but Izuki makes sure to double-check with the doctors. And thankfully Kiyoshi is right, most of the time.

Kiyoshi always wants to protect everybody, but you can't lie to an eagle's eye.

Hey, that rhymed! He'll have to put it down on paper later.

"So, what are you guys planning for next year?" Kiyoshi asks.

Izuki shrugs. "Train. Make sure we get good grades for the team."

Kiyoshi grabs his hand.

"Do your best to win the Inter-High." he says. "For me."

Izuki laughs.

"What do you think we're going to do, try to lose?"

* * *

The next school year rolls around quickly enough. Exam results turn up and Riko is first overall. She's very pleased about it and won't stop rubbing it in Izuki's face (he came second). He personally doesn't mind but pretends to get irritated just to make her laugh.

The others do fairly well too. Tsuchida is thirty, Mitobe around the sixties, and Koganei at one hundred and one out of three hundred. Which is pretty decent.

It's time already to recruit new members. Izuki hopes they get some good ones. It would be nice to win the Inter-High, too, because it'd make Kiyoshi proud.

The first-years are really cute. Izuki finds himself with a soft spot for Furihata, the person who he decides will have to be point guard (and captain) once he's gone. Fukuda and Kawahara are sweet, too, and with enough practice they'll definitely at least be on Tsuchida's level.

The tall American redhead, Kagami, is definitely a surprise, though, oozing with talent to overshadow the rest.

As is the phantom sixth man of the Miracles.

Kuroko is an enigma, someone so quiet and unassuming you can't presume to know. He hides all his feelings with a mask of calmness that has become such a deeply-ingrained part of him no one can tell.

But Izuki knows what it is like to wear such a mask for so long.

So he looks at Kuroko, and he peels aside the top layer and peers into what lies inside.

And it's a world of pain. Kuroko is a person who places the most value in friendship, and the raw hurt from the debacle with the Miracles is like onions burning Izuki's eyes.

This kid hates the Generation of Miracles just as much as the rest of the world does. It's just that Kuroko knows who they are, and that's why it hurts him more that they're like this.

Then comes the determination, the very foundation of what Kuroko Tetsuya is. 'Tetsuya' is indeed an apt name for Kuroko – he's made of an iron will, if nothing else.

Kuroko is kind, too kind for his own good. Yet Izuki can't help but wholeheartedly support his underclassman's goals.

Because he's been there, too, trying to convince a friend out of something you know is bad for them, and he's failed. And it would maybe give him a little more hope if he saw Kuroko succeed.

* * *

Kuroko drags him aside at practice the day after Kise shows up and says, "I have something to tell you, Izuki-senpai."

Izuki smiles at him. "Is it about your five evil exes?"

Kuroko looks horrified. "My what?!"

He'd said it out loud? Yikes.

"I call the Miracles that in my head. Sorry." he apologises sheepishly.

"B – but why my exes?!" Kuroko splutters, still rosy pink.

Izuki shrugs. "It sounded funny at the time. Besides, Kise did act like a clingy ex-girlfriend."

"Senpai, please don't call Kise-kun my ex-girlfriend," Kuroko says, looking green.

"All right," he puts his hands up in a conciliatory manner, "not doing that. So is it about how they forgot what basketball means and that you want to show them that again?"

Kuroko chokes.

"H – how did y – you-"

"Know?" Izuki smiles. "I know a mask when I see one, Kuroko. Yours is very good, but it's eventually no different than any other."

Kuroko stares and then mutters something along the lines of, "scarier than Akashi-kun,"

Izuki shakes it off and continues, "Besides, I understand your position. I was in it myself, last year."

"You had five evil exes?" Kuroko asks, blue eyes wide and earnest.

"What? No – wait, didn't you just ask me to stop calling them that?"

Kuroko shrugs. "I realised it was funny. That's my nickname for them from now on, too."

Izuki laughs, slaps his shoulder gently.

"Come on. Let's get back to practice so we can make your exes history, kitakore!" he tells Kuroko, who laughs too.

Kuroko seems to have forgotten that he ever asked about Izuki's own experience, and Izuki doesn't bring it up. He has better things to think about.

Kise – or the annoying ex, as Izuki dubs him inwardly – acted like a complete shithead after showing up at their school and disturbing their practice. And of course Riko decided that wasn't done.

Unfortunately for Kise, when Riko decides something isn't done, whoever did that something is screwed over.

They have a practice match with Kaijō. Kasamatsu seems nice, but Izuki feels the arrogance in his gaze and offers his dominant left hand before Kasamatsu can. He's betting that the third-year is right-handed, and is proven right by the fumble of Kasamatsu raising his right hand before shaking his head and offering the left – oh, that was a good one, he'll have to write it down later.

Izuki twists the older boy's hand just a little bit to the right, enough to induce momentary pain. It won't last, but it will show him that Seirin isn't anything to be played with. It isn't foul play, not really, and who said you couldn't have a few intimidation tactics every now and then?

He holds on tightly just a second too long, making sure he is the one to release the handshake. A sweet smile, then, and a short bow that doesn't last too long. Riko's glowing behind him, as Takeuchi steams in frustration. It's satisfying to watch.

The slight waver in Kasamatsu's steely eyes as they walk away shows that Izuki's point has come across, loud and clear.

Gods, playing captain comes with so much of politics.

But politics – or fucking with people's heads, more like – is kind of Izuki's forte.

* * *

The nets parting the court for practice are still being removed as they enter. Izuki understands exactly what's going on, and he almost boils over with fury for it.

They never intended to give them the full court. How bloody arrogant.

Well, the calm side of him rationalises, at least they're removing it now. You did the right thing there.

Besides, if they hadn't removed it, God knows what he'd have done; probably told Kagami to break the hoop or something.

Well, actually that sounds like something he would do, so he's not really surprised at himself.

They line up and play. Kise injures Kuroko, though completely inadvertently (Izuki will, if grudgingly, admit it wasn't his fault). Then it turns out Kuroko's fine, and he needed the rest anyways because he can only last about three quarters. Riko gives him a sound lecture about telling them things and then it's the second-years and Kagami on court again, Tsuchida and the other kids having been benched too. They play like the old times, the fluidity returning as Izuki takes the reins like usual.

He passes and shoots and makes sure to face off Kasamatsu, just to get his goat. He makes some quick plays that keep the score even, and sets Mitobe on Moriyama to prevent that horrifyingly ugly scoop shot.

Then Kuroko and Kagami are back in the game. Kise gets thrashed, this time, and apologises to Kuroko with tears in his eyes. And genuine tears, too, not the crocodile tears Kuroko had told them Kise knew so well how to shed.

There's a little more spring in Kuroko's step when he returns from talking to Kise after the match with Kaijō, and Izuki nearly crushes the little shadow under his arm and promises to treat him to a milkshake later.

Then everyone else starts requesting a treat, too, and he's the only one that's not broke so he's forced to find a good place to feed his team which isn't too expensive either. Riko spots the steak offer, Izuki makes a steak pun – his best one today! – and Kagami is discovered to have a stomach the size of a garbage disposal.

His team really is amazing, Izuki thinks with a smile as he watches them cheerfully interact.

Kiyoshi will be so happy when he returns.

* * *

They defeat Shinkyō with ease. The tall African, Papa, turns out to be mostly talk, though his height is advantageous.

But Koganei hasn't practiced and practiced for nothing. They've got a real shooting guard now, and he's a damn good one.

The court is familiar ground to Izuki, and he guides his team with a gentle hand, making plays that will suit Kagami's style, augmenting Kuroko's passing ability with a touch of his own speed. Just enough to coordinate their movements.

Not control, though; never control. He'd seen how well that'd worked for Hyūga in their last middle school match.

Izuki synchronises his plays to his team and doesn't have to pray it will work because they're working around him, now, in the crucial last minutes of the third quarter. He passes a few snarky, pun-laden comments and gives a few cold smiles to the opposition and they start to crumble.

His role is done; he's laid the groundwork for victory. It's up to Kagami and Kuroko to secure the win.

And they deliver fearlessly.

They fight Seihō next. Tsugawa is a piece of work, really, but Izuki puts Mitobe on him and the silent center does what he's best at – he fights defence with defence.

That was a good one!

Mitobe is the perfect guard for Tsugawa. He won't respond to the young, abrasive youth's comments unlike Kagami who gets all fired up. But Seihō's still strong, and Kasuga especially so. His movements are quick and clipped, and Izuki finds himself struggling a little to keep up.

Then his eyes fall to Kasuga's feet and realises how to strike.

The next time the other point guard tries to pass him, Izuki is faster. He moves with Kasuga, smacking the ball out of the older boy's hands and shooting a quick pass to the seemingly empty part of the court.

Kuroko comes through, slamming the ball to Kagami, who scores.

56 – 55, in favour of Seirin.

Maybe they do have a chance in hell of winning this match.

Kagami blooms like a forest fire as the match progresses. He's everywhere, darting, dodging, dunking; truly the powerhouse he seems. The rest of the team are side-pieces to Kagami's brilliance, but Izuki doesn't care about that. Instead he rearranges and reorganises their style of play nearly five times even as he runs around the court, finding the perfect one tailored to Kagami's current flow. To their credit, no one complains, simply goes with what their captain is doing.

They trust him to do what's best, but for that he'll first have to find what's best. So they just have to trust him to do that, too.

Then Izuki hits upon it – run-and-gun. The style they'd tried (and almost succeeded) to use last year, which was put out of the question after Kiyoshi's injury. They hadn't focused much on it this year, but perhaps-?

He looks to Riko, who nods and calls a time-out. With under two minutes left, it seems like a move of desperation.

That's exactly how Izuki wants it to look.

That's how they'll get Seihō; by making them think Seirin is dying…

And showing exactly how dead they are.

He can't help a bit of a dark smirk. This is a lot more fun than he thought it'd be.

Wow, he's really turning into a sadist, huh?

* * *

"Run and gun?" Riko looks doubtful when he suggests it.

"I believe that it's our most lucrative course of action right now. Kagami is in a really good place, so if we can up the ante to match him, it'd be amazing. And Kuroko has to be able to keep up as well," Izuki adds. "Do you think you can?"

Kuroko nods firmly. "I will do my best. Don't worry about me, senpai."

Izuki nods back. "Perfect, then. Mitobe, Koga, do you guys think you can pull it off again? We haven't practised it in a while."

"Hold up," Kagami starts, "you're doing a technique you haven't practised?!"

"You got a problem with that? You know, considering I am orienting this completely around you?" Izuki asks with a mild glare.

Kagami swallows.

"No, sir," he replies meekly.

Izuki grins. "Excellent. Now, let's go, we're wasting time!"

Seirin does a quick huddle and a team cheer and then they're back on court.

The ball drops and he runs for it like lightning. There are wings on his legs and he skids across the court in his haste to snatch it up before an opposing player does.

Izuki tosses it to his left and starts to sprint.

The ball is back in his hands and he's halfway across the court. Mitobe comes up across from him and he passes.

Tsugawa stands in front of him, and he blocks quickly, turning them around with some footwork so Tsugawa's back is to the hoop and he has no choice but to guard Izuki. As he watches, Mitobe and Kuroko volley the ball between them all over the court.

Izuki notices Tsugawa about to break free and decides to cage him in a little more with a whispered, "I heard you had the hots for two of your senpai at the same time,"

He watches in satisfaction as the younger boy stumbles. It's a hit below the belt and he knows it; but there has to be a bit of truth in the words, as evidenced by the way Tsugawa looks at Kasuga and Iwamura. Of course it's just a hero-worship, but a little dirty talk never hurt anyone.

Izuki's eyes catch Mitobe's.

Thirty seconds to go.

Mitobe nods and catches the ball that comes his way – but this time he runs.

The ball will go Mitobe – Koga – Kagami – Kuroko – Koga. Izuki can already see it happening in his mind's eye – there are three defenders near the hoop, where Kagami's strong point lies. And Kagami isn't stupid; he'll feint a dunk, then flick the ball to Kuroko, lying in wait. The ball will then go back to Koga who has the best chance of scoring right now. All he has to do is make sure Tsugawa doesn't break away.

And it happens, just how he predicts it.

Mitobe passes to Koganei, who doesn't waste a second as he throws it to Kagami like a hot potato. Kagami goes in for the dunk and all three blockers jump. He twists at the last second and drops the ball – or not.

The ball skyrockets back towards Koganei, who assumes form and shoots. Tsugawa breaks away somehow from Izuki's fast reactions and underhanded comments, but he's too late. The ball makes the basket just as Iwamura's legs hit the ground.

73 – 71.

The whistle blows, and then it's over.

Seirin High has officially beaten one of the Three Kings of Tokyo.

* * *

The next team they're fighting is Shūtoku. Two matches against two powerhouses in the same day…

But Seirin, Izuki quickly reminds himself, is growing to be a powerhouse in its own right. They've just got to keep that flow.

"We're playing my daikon ex next," Kuroko informs Izuki with a ghost of a smile. "Well, carrot ex now."

"You must eat up all your carrots today, Kuroko-kun," Izuki warns him jokingly. Kuroko laughs.

The rest of the team stares at them uncomprehendingly.

Izuki sighs. "It's a long story."

Tsuchida shakes his head in resignation to Izuki's strange habits. "I don't want to know." Fukuda and Kawahara nod nervously in agreement.

Furihata has an excited gleam in his eyes. "I do!"

"You do? You're the cutest kouhai, Furi-kun!" Izuki ruffles his hair happily.

Kuroko pouts. "What about me?"

"You too, Kuroko," Izuki promises affectionately. "But you'll have to undergo a head-pat as well."

"I only dislike being patted by the eggplant ex," Kuroko explains and happily accepts the head-pats.

* * *

Midorima is actually a vegetable, Izuki realises with some irritation. A stuck-up, arrogant prig.

A stuck-up, arrogant, talented prig, but whatever. He can be handled as long as they have Kagami on him, and Koga returns every shot.

But the rest of Shūtoku is no slouch, either. Kimura is powerful and they need Mitobe on him; but Ōtsubo is too, and they need Koga free, and Kuroko will have some trouble handling him.

Izuki would, but he's got his own hands full with Takao Kazunari. Don't even get him started. The kid reminds him of… well… him.

He smiles when Takao passes him with sublime ease, though, because he knows how to deal with himself.

And if 'himself' is standing on a basketball court, well, doesn't that just make things even easier?

Takao is a difficult opponent. He's fast, barely a hair slower than Izuki. His Eye is stronger, as well. He's not going to be easy to beat.

But then, Izuki is not easy to beat, either.

He's got the speed advantage – however little – and the reaction time advantage, and he's got a team whose ace isn't self-centred. Honestly, that's the greatest weakness of any team with a Miracle in it. They'll orient themselves completely around their ace, so if the ace fails the team fails. Shūtoku will naturally try to put all their eggs in a single basket – oh, that was a good one!

Seirin never had an ace until now, and even when orienting themselves around Kagami they still use their individual abilities, so they don't know how to fail like that.

Izuki smirks.

He has an idea of how they'll win this.

* * *

Of course Shūtoku watched their previous match. That doesn't mean run-and-gun won't work against them.

Takao is the one to watch out for here. He'll try to mark Kuroko, so Izuki will have to take care of him.

"Your vision is quite sharp, Takao-kun, have you been eating your carrots properly?" he inquires cheerfully, with a sly glance thrown Midorima's way.

It works. Takao turns bright pink, distracted for a split second, and that's when Kuroko takes his chance. The pass lands in Izuki's hands like it was made for him.

He doesn't hesitate to shoot. The ball barely even touches the rim of the basket as it falls through it. The perfectly tailored shot.

Ah, he's taught his kouhai well.

* * *

Halfway through the second quarter, Izuki discovers something annoying.

Midorima gets better as the game goes on, apparently. His half-court shots have lengthened to perfect full-court baskets, arcing so high through the air that not even a skyscraper could reach them, landing in the net without touching the rim.

Unfortunately for him, Kuroko has a couple of access up his sleeve, too.

Such as that wild as hell cross-court pass.

It works a few times, levelling the score a little to 50 - 57 (still in Shūtoku's favour, but it's a gap they can and will narrow).

Then Kuroko starts to tire. And Izuki still hasn't figured out Midorima's weakness.

I'll have to mark him; but first, we need to even the playing field.

Riko calls a time-out again. She and Izuki rearrange the entire order of play once more: but this time focusing on Koganei. Getting those threes to catch up is more important than anything right now. He instructs even Kagami to pass instead of dunking. The redhead doesn't complain. He knows it's what they need to win.

One cheer and they're back on court for the last two minutes of the second quarter. Then Seirin start running.

Izuki comes up from behind Takao; he knows he's been seen, but he also knows that that minuscule speed advantage he's got will help him here.

And it does, as he flicks the ball out of Takao's hands and starts to run again.

The ball flies to Kagami, who goes in for the dunk and passes at the last second to Mitobe. The ball lands in Koga's hands and he makes the shot, his form perfect like always.

Three more shots in quick succession. Then the score evens out a bit more, 62 - 57 in favour of Seirin, and Izuki decides he rather likes the shock on Takao's face. Clearly he didn't expect Izuki with his low-level eye to be able to pass himself, who can see the whole court.

He can't help but send a sweet smile with a razor edge in Takao's direction. A warning that the eagle may be older and slower, but it's still wiser than the hawk.

And the hawk would do well to remember that.

* * *

Midorima comes back in full force the next quarter. He's everywhere, and his teammates only pass to him. He's making those ridiculous full-court shots constantly and he doesn't seem to be tiring even the faintest bit.

But you cannot manage crazy shots like that throughout the game. It's impossible; the basketball will start weighing on your arms. It's heavy.

And sure enough, halfway through the third quarter, Izuki sees Midorima falter as he jumps, falter as he takes the shot. His wrists arch back elegantly, as they usually do, but this time it's a labour to pull them back up and complete the release.

Kagami's fingers graze the ball, but it's enough.

It spins around the rim of the basket before toppling in, yes, but it's a deviation from those perfect shots nevertheless.

And it gives Seirin a little more hope of stopping Shūtoku.

* * *

"At the end of the fourth quarter, we'll mark them one-on-one. They'll pass the ball to and from each other, trying to get it to Midorima. We do not intercede; let the ball go to Midorima, whom Kagami will be marking. Make sure to stop every shot that you can, and signal when you can't jump anymore."

Well. Riko definitely has an eye for the game.

Thirty seconds left in the fourth quarter, and Kagami is nearly drained. His jumping ability is at its limits and he's about to collapse.

He's stopped three of Midorima's shots. Izuki doesn't know if he can stop a fourth. And if Midorima nets that fourth, Seirin is done four.

That was a good one!

He notices Kagami's legs shake and signals to Kuroko for the switch. Kuroko nods and marks Miyaji, forcing Mitobe to shift to Kimura. Koganei takes on Takao and Kagami, realising what's going on, shifts his mark to Ōtsubo. Izuki meets Midorima head on; he's three inches shorter, but somehow manages to come off as more intimidating.

Shūtoku have been playing 'pass the ball', quickly tossing to each other in an effort to get the ball to Midorima. Their ace just gets rebuffed each time, and you can start to see them losing confidence.

That's exactly what Riko wanted.

Ten seconds.

Izuki waits with bated breath for the ball to reach Midorima, Shūtoku trying to take advantage of the change of marks.

Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

Izuki won't be fooled by that.

The ball moves towards Midorima almost in slow motion.

Five. Four. Three. Two.

It touches his hands - but Izuki reacts faster.

He slaps the ball away with all his might.

And it is enough.

The whistle blows.

82 - 81, in Seirin's favour.

They've won.


End file.
